


Fall down beneath their own weight

by Cirkne



Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Angst, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Synesthesia, Unhealthy Relationships, like.... really unhealthy, mentions of death and blood
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-15
Updated: 2017-01-15
Packaged: 2018-09-17 15:54:37
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,497
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9332378
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cirkne/pseuds/Cirkne
Summary: "Don't fucking date people you meet in bar fights,"





	

**Author's Note:**

> this was written because [lcfayctte](http://archiveofourown.org/users/subreid/pseuds/lcfayctte) wanted to title their unhealthy relationship angst fic after _my_ favorite song and i had to do it instead of them. 
> 
> title from no children by the mountain goats

It's like this sometimes. It's- 

Sometimes. Like this. It’s- 

Blood and honey and honey and blood and his eyes are red and his hands turn yellow. It's-

"John," Alexander says. Sings. Alexander sings. Hercules laughs loud, loud, loud. "John, John, John," honey. 

Gilbert is there. Here. Gilbert is navy blue. Gilbert is- blue. He never lies. He always lies. He's there. Three in the morning and it's all green. The lights are- 

John laughs.

"Predictable," he says to himself. Maybe to them, if it fits. He doesn't know what the conversation is about anymore.

"You're crying," Alexander says. He's convinced. John bares his teeth. His eyes are dry. Too dry. Red. Alexander lies like he knows it's the truth. John stands up. Leaves the room. His eyes are dry. 

The blood. Gushing. From his lungs to water his rib cage. Let it grow. Bloom. Let it get too big for his body. His lungs always give out first. His liver. His brain. His heart. Not a pretty sight. 

It's- 

yellow and red. John sleeps on the floor of the bathroom. Hercules laughs. Later, Alexander steps over him to piss.

*

"You'll kill each other," Gilbert says. Orange shadows on his face. John is- 

He doesn't like orange. A childish thing. His father's hand on the back of his neck. 

"We both want to die," John answers. Gilbert laughs. Empty. Loud. Mouth open. Eyes dark. Alexander is always light green. John looks at his hands. There's blood underneath his fingernails. Paint me, paint me, paint me. Gilbert's still laughing. 

Their drinks look like dirty ambers. Dark ambers. John runs his finger on the brim of the glass.

"Seeking out pain is common in abuse victims," Hercules says. He sounds like he's full of shit. He is. He's- 

"Your hands are too big," John says. Stands up. Outside there's- snowflakes. Clouds. He left his jacket on the chair. Walks home and- 

They'll find his body in the snow. Street lamps illuminating him, turning him orange.

His keys are in the jacket too. He waits for Gilbert to come back. Waits four minutes. There's no chasing so there's no catching up either. He calls Alexander.

"Alex," light green. A hint of yellow. Foreshadowing. "I'm coming to see you, baby." 

"Okay," green, green, green. 

*

Alexander ignores him when he’s working. Ignores his texts, his calls. Ignores John at his door, begging to be let in. John doesn’t know when he’s supposed to be hurt. He’s hurt most of the time and it’s not fair to Alexander so he-

He says sorry for disturbing Alexander while he’s working. Alexander hums. Low, red sound. It happens a few more times. John apologizing in green and Alexander humming in red. John feels like he’s waiting for the roles to change but they never do.

*

"A picket fence?" John laughs. A joke. A bad joke. An evil, cruel joke. 

"A picket fence," Alexander spits. Spits. Spits. Alexander- the color shifts. For the first time it-

There were signs. And John. Naive John. He ignored them, of course he did. He ignored all the reds and the oranges and the browns.

"Huh," John says. Alexander's walls are painted lilac. Purple. 

How obvious. He rolls over on the bed. 

"Gilbert was right," an arm over his eyes. His eyes closed. Ignore it, ignore it, ignore it. Think- think green. Think- he can't remember suddenly. Something about touching something about- 

"Isn't he always?" Alexander asks. Sounds bitter. Sounds- he's stopped singing. "Get out of the bed." 

"Okay," John’s legs move. Then his arms. Makes his way to the floor with his eyes closed. Curls up on his side. Alexander's rug is soft enough to sleep on.

The rug is-

yellow. Who matches purple and yellow? Who- 

"What are we gonna do, Alexander? Where will we go?"

"Nothing. Nowhere."

"Nothing. Nowhere," John echoes. Watches a picket fence form in the dark of his eyelids. 

The picket fences are always white. The American dream. He- 

Alexander shifts on the bed. He breathes through his mouth sometimes. Makes loud, aggravating sounds. The picket fences are there so your neighbors could watch you from outside. Alexander doesn't have curtains. John never opens his. There were signs. 

* 

"I called you." 

"You did." 

Alexander doesn’t move to let him inside. John’s hands are freezing.

“I love you,” he says and Alexander- 

Smiles. He- smiles. He-

Green. Green. Green. John smiles back.

“I love you, baby, I love you,” John says. His voice yellow and green and soft pink and-

Alexander takes his hand, pulls him inside.

*

"The boy sure likes his floors," Hercules is-

They talk about John like he's a child, like he's not in the room. Hercules is- 

He needs to fix his fucking sink is what he is. It's been months. It's been loud, loud months. Alexander imitates the sound with his mouth sometimes. Doesn’t really know he’s doing it. Eyes empty, unfocused. John thinks of killing him. Thinks of all the ways he could kill him. Thinks-

Bashing his head into the sink. Red on silver. It's what he deserves. What they both deserve. Blood running down into the drain. Blood clots clotting 

Thinks- 

Holding his head underwater for a really long time. Until he can’t move, until he opens his mouth to let himself drown. How pathetic it is to drown in a sink. Thinks-

Kicking at his ribs until they break and puncture his liver, his lungs. Thinks-

"Fix your fucking sink, Hercules," 

Hercules is- 

He's- 

There's a potted plant in the corner of his room. It's dying. It needs sunlight to survive but Hercules won't move it. Keeps books on his windowsills. 

Hercules is- 

Milk. Cream. He's-

He laughs when John says it again. Then once more, later. Laughs. He won't move the plant. John buys Alexander curtains. Light green. Puts them up himself.

"They look disgusting, John," harsh, harsh. A yellow bite. 

"I know." 

There's no more sunlight.

There's no more sunlight and John refuses to move.

Hercules is white is what he is. Old white. White that's turning a gross yellow. Alexander might be rubbing off on him. Alexander might be- 

John laughs. Might be, might be. 

*

Alexander locks the bathroom door mid shower. You have to get out of it to reach the lock but the water’s been running for fifteen minutes already and Alexander doesn’t waste water.

"Oh," John says. Slides off of the couch. Looks at the ceiling for much longer than he has to. Like he has to at all. Gets up. Gets out. He doesn't have a key to Alexander's apartment so he keeps the door unlocked. Alexander is safe in the shower. Alexander is-

Hiding in the shower. He's safe in there. He's- 

John can't get him there. John can't get him anywhere. John throws his phone into the sewer.

John goes home. The walls are light blue. Gilbert is sleeping on the couch. The TV's on. John's told him to put a timer on if he plans to fall asleep. He opens the windows in the kitchen. Their cabinets are yellow. John's hands are red. John's wrists and ankles and his neck. It's all red. 

The picket fences are all red. His name is all red. His name is all yellow. His name is ruined. His name is orange.

"Alexander," John says. His arms are weak and shaking. It's all yellow and red all honey and blood. It's never sometimes. He's a fucking liar. It's never sometimes. It's constantly. It's all the time. It's- 

"Don't fucking date people you meet in bar fights," Gilbert said. It wasn't about him and Alexander then but it is now. 

He's had Alexander's blood underneath his fingernails. He's- 

He's so in love. In the ugly way. In the- 

He wants to die before he ever gets to hold Alexander. He's gotten to hold Alexander. 

He thinks about dying until Gilbert wakes up and then thinks about death. They're similar, but-

*

Alexander comes back. Or, Alexander shows up. Alexander sings. Alexander pulls him to bed. Alexander- 

"You're green baby, you're always so green, you're spring grass." 

"That doesn't make any sense, John." 

He's reading a book. There's a reason it doesn't make any sense. 

"Come back to bed, baby," John asks. Pleads. John purrs and begs and cries. 

Alexander stands up. Leaves. Says goodbye to Gilbert on his way out, probably. John follows ten minutes later. Thinks of Alexander's yellow rug and purple walls and light green curtains. 

Except-

Alexander's taken down the curtains. Alexander reads. John lays quietly by his side and waits. It's a long book. John's used to it. It's like this sometimes. It's- 

Oranges and tangerines and nectarines on the table. John thinks of starving to death. Doesn't move. Later, Alexander sings him to sleep. He dreams of picket fences. It’s all he does. He should burn the picket fences. He should- 

Should, should, should. They’ll collapse into themselves, eventually. The fences, of course. The white, ugly fences. They’ll fall.


End file.
